


Loose Snare

by ActualHurry



Series: A Drifter's Gambit: Unabridged [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Breathplay, Identity Porn, Lore Compliant, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualHurry/pseuds/ActualHurry
Summary: The Renegade earns the Drifter's attention - and the Drifter could earn a little more trust.(Set during "Artifacts and Old Friends", "Shadow on a Wall", and "Bright Side of a Bad Idea".)EDIT 3/7: Revised to comply with lore revealed during Joker's Wild.





	Loose Snare

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 3/7: Revised to comply with lore revealed during Joker's Wild. No spoilers outright, but hints are contained within.

Shin knew who he was before they ever laid eyes on each other, in this desolate place. Stripped of anything useful, the area that was only distantly part of the European Dead Zone could be called nothing more than wasteland. The Fallen had already drained it to dirt. Shin had no particular quarrel with Eliksni; they weren’t evil, not a danger like others dared to be. Dregs may’ve killed his first family, but that was a long time ago. His cardinal vendetta pointed towards a different north these days.

It was near some emptied out, Golden Age spacecraft that they crossed paths. Shin felt his heart kick up, his muscles wind tight, waiting to pull, waiting to draw. He expected a standoff.

What he got was a wave and a clatter as whatever ancient, broken tech the Lightbearer had been holding was dropped to the floor of the ship.

“You don’t look near as dinged-up as all the other folk I’ve avoided running into out here,” the Lightbearer said, his voice dragged out and gravelly like someone had just narrowly missed choking him moments before. Someone very well may have. “Which makes you one outta three things. You vain, sneaky, or newborn-again?”

Shin didn’t like how his lip curled up just a little at the last word. “I can’t be more than one?”

The Lightbearer’s brows twitched up. Only a tiny bit, but it was enough. “Maaaybe. But you ain’t just one step outta your grave, I know that much.”

“What makes you say that?”

A derisive snicker was the only response at first. “Ain’t no fresh walking corpses got pretty gear like yours, shiny and nice. Who’d you yank it off of?” Some sort of sideways-like, strange expression slid across his face then. “Or where’d you _buy_ it, since that’s the polite way people do things nowadays.”

Shin reached up to touch his helmet lightly – the Sanction Six model, old and unused with newer, better makes out there – with two gloved fingers. It wasn’t anything special. Somewhat unique these days, yes, but only due to necessity. He wasn’t trying to stand out. His current prey required a more subtle approach. And he was a bit… distinct. He had to work with what he could when it came down to it.

“I found it,” he said after some contemplation, which somehow made the other Lightbearer laugh aloud. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Touchy!” exclaimed the Lightbearer, who smiled, all teeth. “I’m nobody other than a drifter.”

Shin's lip twitched. “If that’s how it is, you can call me ‘Pal’.”

The Drifter laughed even harder at that, his shoulders shaking as he waved a hand Shin’s way. “Ah, hell. Alright. Do me a favor and don’t shoot me while I got my back turned, won’tcha?”

He was left to his own devices as Drifter went back to scavenging through whatever was left of this ship. There was a choice there, a crossroads hovering right in front of Shin, that would dictate how the next chapter of his life went. He could leave outright, no hints of his presence remaining other than a strange story for Drifter to tell the next poor soul he ran into. Or he could stick around. See where this path led him. Could be, Drifter could turn out useful. Certainly was looking that way, considering... 

He was far more than just a drifter. Shin was more than aware of _that_. Maybe if he was anybody else, Shin would’ve just let the man keep on and observed from a healthy distance. Watched, waited, until someone else picked a fight or he did something irredeemable, and then Shin would’ve cleaned up the mess that came after.

An opportunity like this though – it called for improvisation.

“I’ll do you one better,” Shin said, angling himself to face the wasteland rather than the hollowed-out center of the ship. He had his Ghost transmat him an auto rifle; it was no more special than his helmet, but he wasn’t about to wield his _real_ weapon in front of Drifter.

“Hey, I like it. Good ol’ fashioned camaraderie.” It sounded like Drifter had decided to upend the entire gut of the ship, spilling insides outside as he rifled around what must have been the pilot’s cabin at some time or another. “But rest assured, Pal.” Shin listened to him spit on the ground and made the conscious decision not to be overly disgusted. “I can handle anything myself.”

Shin glanced over as he felt Drifter’s eyes on him. He tilted his head in silent question until Drifter squinted at him and made a noise in the way back of his throat.

“Well. Probably anything,” Drifter decided, then continued on his scavenging way.

Shin found himself daring a tiny half-smile at that, at the addendum that was less flattery than genuine truth. In the same way that he could sense the Light in Drifter, there was little doubt that Drifter could feel the same power tucked away in Shin. Same, but...different. Differences beyond the frequency under their skin not matching up. Beyond even it just being Light.

But Shin could play this game. So long as he remained a stranger.

He followed Drifter from one shell of a ship to another, occasionally taking potshots at Fallen that dared make attempts on either of their lives. There were only Dregs here, and they would no doubt find their end soon enough without a source of ether. Drifter whistled as he worked, some jaunty, bouncing tune that only painted targets on their backs to the hungry Fallen. Shin was torn; he was annoyed, because the racket wasn't beautiful by any means, yet he was glad too, because the noise drew attention, and tailing Drifter would have been very, very uneventful otherwise.

Not that Dregs provided an interesting diversion for long.

“What are you even looking for?” Shin asked, supposing that he should be direct. “You’ve torn the insides out of at least six ships, and don’t have nothing to show for it.”

Drifter poked his head out of the cockpit, a new smudge of dirt smeared across his nose. Or maybe that had already been there. It was equally likely that the Drifter simply had some eternal form of grime coating his skin, and besides that, Shin had seen little more than the man’s ass while he’d been keeping dutiful watch. So there was no telling.

“Bits ‘n bobs, partner,” drawled the Drifter, wiping his hands on his pants. “ _Useful_ ones, anyhow. In the market for some new parts for my own ship. The Derelict’s been chuggin’ along this far with all my junk and not so junky things.”

“Maybe name the ship something other than the Derelict and it wouldn’t need new parts,” Shin replied, thinking _new_ wasn’t the right word for whatever pieces Drifter would be repurposing.

Drifter laughed, shrugging in some supremely lazy way. “There’s a lot in a name.”

He eyed Shin up and down then, and Shin’s skin prickled underneath all the layers of armor and cloth he wore. Drifter had some shrewd expression on his face, something far more critical and aware than Shin liked. He didn't dare glance away. To bow out would've been confessing to something. 

Neither looked away until a Dreg came bursting through the wall into the space between them. Shin’s bullet caught it right between the eyes.

When the Dreg’s body fell, Drifter smiled and turned back to the metal parts he was appraising. He hadn’t even attempted to draw his gun, though there was one tucked right there into his belt.

Shin needed the Drifter to trust him. Maybe he’d already made some headway. Maybe he was fooling himself.

“ _Annny_ way.” Drifter scratched the back of his neck. “I been around to a lotta places. Drawn to the outer. Gettin' gone where nobody's been gone before. And the Derelict’s put me on near all of those untouched lands.”

Shifting his rifle's weight, Shin settled himself back against the now-open wall of the ship. It gave him a good vantage point. From here, he could watch Drifter as well as the flank. Whatever he’d hoped their conversation would consist of, getting his life story was not it. “You’ve seen things,” Shin prompted.

“Friend, I’ve seen _everything_ ,” Drifter told him, and fixed him with such a look that even if Shin hadn’t been privy to all the fables himself, he would’ve believed him in a second.

Drifter told him, in no boring way, about interesting places and beautiful ones. Things that should end up monuments, and things that had always been mistakes. The opposite side of Jupiter, the inside of Saturn. And even then, he told Shin about things he’d never heard of. What a way to age yourself, Shin thought (hypocritically, at that), but didn’t interrupt as Drifter continued rambling about some sort of Crux. There was no way to tell truth from lie with Drifter, unless you knew better. Shin knew the Drifter wasn't bullshitting about headin' to the deepest parts of the system. He'd disappeared from Shin's radar a while. Only made sense. 

Shin interrupted before Drifter got in too deep going on about Luna. “You’re talking a lot, but I don’t see much backing you up.”

“If you’re so suspect, come aboard the Derelict, why not?” said Drifter. The sun was setting on the horizon. Golden light gleamed through the ship, the sun’s last farewell before dark, and Shin watched the way it lit Drifter’s eyes right up, the way his teeth flashed in a grin. “I don’t bite.”

An invitation and what Shin wanted to call a threat, but he wasn’t so sure. At the very least, it got him in the door. “Impress me,” he said.

For once, Drifter didn’t cast a snarky remark Shin’s way or banter back. He just tipped his head and pointed upwards. The Derelict was in orbit, Drifter said, waiting high above them. Transmat was the easy part, he assured him, but also the ship was booby trapped all over, so if his ‘new Pal’ could just wait a second, he’d unlock the frequency so his Ghost could dial him in and have him up in a tick.

Shin sat down and waited once Drifter had transported away. His Ghost, Jaren’s once, appeared at his shoulder and fluttered around, inspecting the space Drifter had been occupying a moment before. Analysis of the area revealed strange traces, similar to the sterile neutrino left by Taken meddling. But not quite. His Ghost sent the findings to rest with all the other data Shin kept about Shadows, and then disappeared once more to safety.

He was going to have to be very, very careful. Getting closer to the Drifter would benefit him if he played his cards right, but it wasn’t about to make anything easier. That he hadn’t been recognized was a blessing he would do well to preserve. It was entirely possible that Shin was just making things that much more complex for himself.

Drifter wasn’t a real target and would likely never be, but Shin knew he had to have heard the stories, the warnings: _The Man with the Golden Gun will hunt you down and never quit, never tire, never drop it, not for a second._ So instead of Shin, the legend, he would be a Renegade, a nobody, and he would turn over the stones that needed to be turned over, and he would play with fire to keep it from burning too bright.

“ _Alright, climb aboard,_ ” came the lax signal through his comms, a voice more familiar than Shin needed.

The transmat was no different than going to his own ship. Inside, the Derelict was as much a lobby as it was a ship, the area as open as could be. Fencing separated two sides of the bridge, and on closer inspection, was gated entirely by a shield on both ends, four transmat circles contained in either. Shin tossed a curious look behind him at Drifter, who stood on a raised platform, but was left unsatisfied with no explanation.

And then he looked beyond the Drifter entirely.

“Oh, that?” Drifter said then, arms crossed casually over his chest. How every inch of him wasn’t tense as a bowstring at the sight of that black, _wrong_ atrocity was a mystery to Shin. “Told you I’d been everywhere. Seen everything.”

“What _is_ it?” Shin asked evenly, fingers twitching for his gun. Darkness, surely. More of it than Shin had ever seen, probably. And that was saying something.

“Artifact. I guess.” Drifter picked at his teeth. “From real deep. Deep enough to snuff out your Light on the spot, just like that, easy as pie.”

“Vex?” Drifter shook his head. “Hive?” That made him go prickly, a funny, unhappy grimace on his face. Shin wondered why he’d even invited him here.

“No, s’none of _those_ things. It’s just… other. Think it’s somethin’ powerful, too. Maybe.”

 _Maybe._ Shin looked at it, that mass of black and deep and dark, for a long moment, then averted his eyes back to Drifter. Inside, his stomach curled, but he was as calm as could be when he said, “Why the hell bring it here?” It didn’t look good to bring something unknown and powerful close to innocent people. Could’ve been call for a bullet then and there, but Shin was playing the long game here. “‘Maybe’ ain’t good enough.”

And Drifter held his arms out wide and replied, so confident, “Brother… _maybes_ are where the real treasure hides.”

In his HUD, his Ghost informed him that the chunk of ‘other’ was entirely unreadable, alien in ways nothing else had ever been. There was nothing to do but roll with the punches, then. Drifter seemed to sense that Shin wasn't so sure what to do about this piece of information, based off of the long, thoughtful hum he gave.

“Hey, Pal.” Drifter leaned there on the barrier separating that raised catwalk and open air. He rested his chin on his hand, was almost eager as he continued, “You seem the wayfarin’ type. Ever met a man in black? Named Callum?”

Shin listened as Drifter went right back to regaling him with another story. This time, he knew it was the truth.

“We were in cahoots together for a while, me and the rest of his crew,” Drifter went on, gesturing along with his tale. “But I’d been around. Knew more than them. They liked that about me, I think.” His smile said maybe his new Pal liked it about him, too. Shin would’ve liked better for him to keep talking. “Anyway. Callum 'n the rest of 'em have been tryin' to stay outta the spotlight, lately. Seems like they're runnin' from somethin'. Or somebody.”

They were, in fact, running from the Man with the Golden Gun. They'd always be running. Shin kept quiet and let Drifter finish.

“Callum’s hiding out in this place he's got, all by his lonesome. Everybody else, I dunno where. Callum’d know, though. You want more interestin’ stuff? They got plenty interestin’ for you.”

“Interesting as you and yours?” Shin asked.

It gave Drifter pause, at least. “I doubt it,” he said, and smiled like he had a secret. They both knew he had plenty of them, but Drifter would've been turned upside down if he had any idea just how many of his secrets Shin already knew.

“I’ll bite,” Shin said, which made Drifter perk up with a start. “But why’re you tellin’ me all this?”

A shrug and a dragged-out _mmmmh, wellll_ was the only reply at first. Drifter walked one side to the other on his platform, his stage. Shin tracked every little shift, every footstep, until he stopped his pacing.

“You seem the type to like a rush,” Drifter said, picking his words careful-like. “And I got lots to scratch that itch for you. But consider this lil’ bit of info payback for you watching my back earlier. Appreciate ya.”

Shin nodded, slow. “Sure. I’ll be back.”

“Hope so,” Drifter said after him, as the creaking, ancient sounds from the Derelict melted into nothing but the wind when Shin was transported back down to Earth.

Two weeks into hell later, and it all paid off. If he hadn't known real well the actual stakes of all this, he could've thought mistakenly that Drifter had just spun a story to get rid of him. But Callum paid the price of devotion to the Shadows, and the Man with the Golden Gun found him and his Ghost's broken shards. Callum fell to ash, no Ghost alive to fire at afterwards.

Then Shin went back. But first, he delivered the recording of Callum’s death to the right hands.

Then he sought out Drifter.

A few days later, Drifter gave a bright greeting when Shin requested transmat to the Derelict again as it orbited around Nessus. This time Shin ended up in what he assumed were the Drifter’s quarters. A makeshift frameless bed in one corner, a chair and screen alight in another. There were still _things_ scattered around the room, as messy as the rest of Drifter. And it was dark, though not uncomfortably so.

“Stay awhile, stranger,” Drifter purred, all sprawled out on that sorry excuse of a bed. He lacked his weapons. No belt. Fewer accoutrements than the usual.

Oh, hell. 

Shin had seen it coming a mile away, but the blatant aspect of it lit some embarrassed anger in him, there and gone again. He had enough faith that Drifter wouldn’t try to punch a knife through his ribcage only so long as Drifter didn’t know who he was beneath this helmet. Shin felt played suddenly, somehow surprised that Drifter would rope him in with charm and thrill. He shouldn't have been, yet here he was.

_You seem the type to like a rush._

_I got lots to scratch that itch for you._

Despite it all, Shin wasn’t ignorant to the smaller, more subtle game they’d been playing this whole time.

He rested one knee on the bed and leaned over Drifter, who started to smirk like he’d won the fight, whatever that fight was. Shin's sure hands started to unbuckle his armor, piece by piece, starting at the thighs, removing holsters and belts. Shin made a grab for Drifter’s shoulder guard, was brushed off, and retaliated by snatching his arm by the wrist and pinning it down to the bed.

“Oh, so it’s like that,” Drifter said, droll about it.

“Gonna complain?” Shin asked, climbing on top of him to keep that arm down with his other knee. Meanwhile he set about undoing his own pants, brusque and impatient. Drifter settled back, his legs falling to either side behind Shin.

“Naw. Think I’m gonna enjoy the show instead.”

Shin thought probably that he should have felt wronged by the leering, but for all that it made his skin slowly flush darker, he never felt the need to cover up. Instead, that fire in his chest bolstered by the moment of outrage before only burned deeper. When Drifter’s free hand crept up to reach behind his neck, aiming for the clasp keeping his helmet in place, Shin shook his head fiercely and pinned the other arm to the mattress.

“I’m sure I’ve fucked uglier than you,” Drifter reassured him.

“Don’t move,” Shin told him, firm enough that it apparently didn’t invite an argument. He didn’t care either way; he’d get Drifter to shut his mouth by the end of this regardless.

Shin pulled his glove off with his teeth, didn’t miss the way Drifter’s eyes went darker at the sight. He set about pulling Drifter’s robes open, only yanked his pants down enough to get his dick out. He had to lift himself up a bit to give himself the same treatment, and Drifter capitalized on that. He grabbed Shin’s waist with both hands and pulled him forward so Shin had to catch himself from falling on top of him.

“Just like that,” Drifter whispered. Shin was close enough to flick his eyes up to that headband and wonder if it would hold both of Drifter’s wrists behind it, but then Drifter was licking his bare palm and spitting on it and wrapping that hand around both of their cocks, and Shin breathed out to keep from biting his own tongue. It wasn’t _that_ good, damn it.

“You ain’t the talkative type,” Drifter murmured against the side of his helmet. “See if I can’t make you make some noise now, huh?”

Shin rolled his eyes, shoved back from the bed to roll his hips into Drifter’s grip. He got a nice little groan out of it. Bracing himself with his hand on Drifter’s chest, fingers pressing just above his sternum, Shin forced a faster pace than Drifter had first set. Drifter kept his hold moving, kept fingers digging into the bare skin over Shin’s hastily-moved pants. If he left bruises, Shin wondered whether he could get away with shooting himself anew later. He was sure he’d die of some regret after the fact, if not a bullet.

Drifter muttered swear after swear, threw his head back as Shin got frustrated chasing the feeling and closed his hand over Drifter’s.

Shin whispered _fuck_ , and Drifter zeroed in on it, because of course he did.

“Didn’t catch that,” he breathed, voice already so sex-slurred. “Lemme hear you again.” Shin shivered, and then slid his hand from Drifter’s chest to his neck. Closed fingers there, around his throat, on his air. Drifter managed a shocked little, “Oh,” and with little more than a raspy growl, came over himself, across his own clothes.

Interesting, indeed.

As Drifter’s hand went loose, Shin’s tightened to keep the hold. Drifter started to hiss between his teeth, squirming and claiming sensitivity, but Shin finished quickly and messily, figuring dazedly that Drifter’s robes were already ruined. No sense in making a mess of himself, too.

They both took a moment to breathe. Shin rolled off of him, pants still around his knees. He felt slow, wrung-out, clumsy-fingered. It'd been a while. He didn't want to bother making a fool of himself trying to get dressed again.

And besides –

Drifter was content to be lazy next to him. Shin wasn’t going to rush. He’d asked to come here, and even if this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind – he’d had a reason for coming back. Not that he could really act on it right now. Part of him was glad that Drifter obviously wasn’t the cuddling type, because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was. But laying next to each other in relative satisfaction: that, Shin could handle.

“You find Callum?” Drifter asked, once he cleared his throat.

Odd pillow talk. Not much odder than the rest of him though. “No,” he lied, turning his head to look at him.

“Shame,” Drifter replied, a little strangely. He lifted himself up enough to look at the wet mess on his front, then wiped a finger through it. Studying his finger curiously, he licked it a second later. “Huh.”

Shin stared at him.

“Been awhile,” Drifter said like that qualified as explanation. He sat up entirely to get himself in order, foregoing the top part of his clothing. “Got somethin’ to show you.”

Shin shrugged off the exhaustion tugging at his mind and rolled his shoulders back, stretching before he stood. “More ‘maybes’?” he guessed, doing his pants up properly.

Drifter grinned sharply, but there was a sated side to it, too. “Don’t you know it, friend.”

So they touched down somewhere empty, somewhere old. And Drifter showed him all the proof Shin would have ever needed to know –

This Gambit was exactly what the City needed, these days. That bullet with Drifter’s name on it was going to have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Over the past couple weeks, I dug very deep into Destiny, and read as much as I possibly could into the lore (or what I could understand with limited knowledge anyway)... And have to say, I'm disappointed almost nobody has done anything with these two yet. "Fine cut of bait"!? Hello??? Not to mention the identity porn, yum. Drifter crushing on Renegade, Renegade equals Shin, Shin distrustful of Drifter... best math equation I've ever laid eyes on.
> 
> And a quick shoutout to this fic which motivated me to push myself into writing this one in nearly one sitting. Yay for miracle motivation! - https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171604
> 
> Please enjoy and produce content too so I am not Old Person Yelling At This Particular Cloud, thank you. ♥


End file.
